


I want you to paint me a yellow canvas

by Cuits



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:39:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuits/pseuds/Cuits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will could have hesitated for the smallest part of a second, trying to figure out if he should attempt to make him come to his senses but he doesn't, and so he uses that extra heartbeat to throw himself at Jeffery in aim for the gun. When the piercing pain of a bullet going through his chest hits him, the trajectory of the projectile is slightly different as it could have been, just an inch to the right, but is enough for it to barely miss his heart entirely and make his left lung collapse instead.</p><p> </p><p>And just like that, reality splits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want you to paint me a yellow canvas

**PROLOGUE**

 

There is a well-known theory that postulates that we live in an infinitive number of universes, as many as those in which every single one of us doesn’t exist at all. There are worlds out there, as real and complete as this one, worlds where we chose the path not taken, the word not said… worlds where any given decision has a different outcome.

 

Will hears the shotgun and watches the bleeding witness fall to the ground before he has time to process what is really happening. He stands knocking his chair back and looks to his right to see his innocent client holding a gun, tears falling down his cheeks and an unrecognizable hysteric expression in his face. Will could have hesitated for the smallest part of a second, trying to figure out if he should attempt to make him come to his senses but he doesn't, and so he uses that extra heartbeat to throw himself at Jeffery in aim for the gun. When the piercing pain of a bullet going through his chest hits him, the trajectory of the projectile is slightly different as it could have been, just an inch to the right, but is enough for it to barely miss his heart entirely and make his left lung collapse instead.

 

And just like that, reality splits.

\----------------

 

**YELLOW. THE DAY AFTER.**

 

It's barely six a.m. in the morning when the telephone rings. Is a distant an annoying sound for Alicia's asleep consciousness, too subtle for she to fully awake but insistent enough that she extends her hand and blindly picks up the receiver.

 

"What." Is not even a real question, her voice is rash and broken as if she had cried herself to sleep last night.

 

"Alicia" Diane's voice trembles and pauses for a moment in a such a particular way that all the events of the previous day come back to her in a rush and she has to bite her lip to contain a pained sob “He is awake.” says Diane instead. “Will is awake."

 

Her heart skips a beat and races, her puffy eyes suddenly bright and open to the shadows of her bedroom. She wants to believe so hard that Diane has actually said what she thinks she just heard that Alicia is not eager to ask for a clarification that would undoubtedly break her heart all over again.

 

"Alicia?" She doesn’t even know she keeps on breathing until a distressed whimper escapes her lips and breaks the silence in the house. "His state is still very delicate but the doctors believe he is going to make it."

 

Alicia holds the receiver with such strength that her knuckles go white as she simply starts to cry. “Where is he?” she asks and throws back the covers of the bed.

 

She puts on some random clothes and heads for a taxi without so much of a second thought, it's just “ _Oh my God, Oh my God_ ” on a boucle in her mind but once she is in the passenger seat and has given the driver the address, the thoughts evolve in rapid succession as if her mind was finally awaking to the new day and then it's “ _This can’t be right_ ” and “ _Am I having a psychotic breakdown?_ ” because there is absolutely not the slimmest chance that Diane would joke with something as important as Will being dead or alive but she remembers quite vividly the day before and she knows it wasn’t a dream. It was far too devastating for it to be the product of her imagination.

 

The taxi arrives and she gives the due money to the driver and is out of the car so fast she could compete in some kind of olympic discipline but as soon as she goes through the gates of the hospital her feet come to a sudden stop and refuse to keep on going.

 

There are nurses, doctors, patients moving around her. She hears phones ringing and people speaking as the distinctive smell of clean sterilization fills her nostrils. Everything feels real. Everything inside her tells her this is real but Alicia is far too afraid to go to the nurse station and ask for Will just to find out it has been all a mistake; she's also too afraid to just leave. She is almost too afraid to even breathe.

 

“Alicia!” Diane sees her from the far end of the hallway and that seems to put the things in motion. She starts to breathe again; her feet start to move again, her eyes start to silently cry again.

 

Alicia closes the distance and they hug, clinging to each other when they meet, much like she remembers doing the day before at Lockhart & Gardner, mourning together the loss of Will.

 

“ _I’m going crazy_.” she thinks, and “ _my poor kids._ ” but somehow she finds inappropriate to question her own sanity yet.

 

“Is he…?” she starts to ask because she wants to ask “ _is he Will?_ ” but her voice breaks instead and if this is all a gigantic cosmic second chance, isn’t it her duty to at least be a little hopeful? So she clears her throat and starts again “Is he okay?”

 

Diane looks at her with her expressive blue eyes filled with tears and fear and Alicia knows that it doesn’t matter if this is real or not anymore, she just couldn’t cope with Will dying again.

 

“He has lost a lot of blood and the damage in his lung and stomach is severe but the doctor said that if nothing goes wrong in the next 48 hours he will be out of the woods.”

 

Alicia nods and looks ahead at the hallway just in time to recognize Will’s sisters coming out of a room, her noses bright red and their eyes devastated with tears.

 

“Can I see him?”

 

But instead of answering Diane leads her way towards the room’s door she has her eyes set upon, her hand in Alicia’s shoulders guides her for one or two eternities until they are both in front of the room and Diane hugs her one more time before whispering at her ear a simple word “Go.”

 

The next thing she knows is that she is inside the room. The light is dim and there are a lot of machines softly beeping different tunes connected to tubes and sensors but in the middle of it all there is Will, pale and fragile on the bed.

 

She stares, terrified. Terrified that the slightest movement could make all this reality simply disappear in thin air. She counts to ten, then to twenty then to forty. Observes with growing excitement the rising and falling of his chest until her own pulse is racing and bumping in her ears, until she can’t stand by the door anymore.

 

She takes a step, two, four, until she is by the bed and she can reach out and touch him but she doesn't do it, not just yet, first she takes a seat at the nearest chair and takes three deep breathes with her eyes closed. When she opens them again everything is exactly as it was a minute before and her right hand reaches for his hair shyly, with trembling fingers, convinced that as soon as her skin will come in contact with his, he will cease to exist.

 

He doesn’t though, and she feels like there is no enough air the room to fill her lungs, like there is not enough air in the entire planet to fill them, her instant smile is so wide that the muscles of her face almost hurt. She takes his hand on her left hand and carefully not to get in the way of any tubes she leans her head on the pillow by his side.

 

She can feel his breathing on her face, the heat of his body slowly reaching hers, the unique smell of himself cocooning her. Alicia lets the certainty of his presence by her side fill her in and loses track of time just looking at his features, trying to memorize even the smallest of details.

 

Then it happens; Will stirs lightly and opens his eyes. His look is unfocused from the drugs and maybe from the pain too, and he frowns a little until he recognizes her and then his lips curve up in a little smile and his hand squeezes a little her fingers.

 

Alicia lets herself believe that the day before only existed in her nightmares.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

**BLUE. THE WEEK AFTER.**

 

She has set several urgent appointments at a wide range of different doctors from an assortment of various disciplines because there is something terribly wrong with herself. A brain tumor, maybe, or something as colorful as an undiagnosed schizophrenia perhaps.

 

One day she wakes up and Will was killed at the courtroom, she goes to sleep and when she wakes up in the morning is the same day and he is severely injured but alive, but only until she goes to sleep and then she is to wake up in another day in which Will is dead again and life went on.

 

Of course she doesn’t understand what is going on but these two realities seem to alternate days in her life and she can’t do anything to change that fact, not even try not to fall asleep for a night.

 

Maybe this is her particular brand of Purgatory, maybe it's the karma of her past lives cashing in, but she doesn’t believe in God or reincarnations and neither of those options provide her with any answer so she goes for the medical approach. In the mean time she buys the exact same calendar in two consecutive days and puts it on her night stand. She buys it blue one day that Will is dead and buys the yellow one a day that he is not. It is far from being a solution much less an explanation but it helps her to keep track of two lives that as much as are both her own, are falling dramatically apart.

 

“ _Will’s funeral_ ” is written in her handwriting in the blue calendar for that day, and so she dresses herself in modest back clothes and skips breakfast with her daughter and her son in order to arrive to the church a little earlier.

 

It shouldn’t be this devastating, the perspective of maybe waking up the next day to a life where she can still touch his warm skin, it should lift a little the weigth of the heavy stone of grieve growing in her chest that almost doesn’t allow her to breathe but it doesn’t. In the here and the now he is dead and she almost can’t cope with the weight of the things unsaid.

 

She arrives to the church to find Kalinda already there; most of her face hidden under fashionable sunglasses, and Cary not far from her side in what she supposes is meant to be a silent demonstration of support. It probably would work better if Cary himself didn’t look so profoundly sad.

 

“I’m very, very sorry Alicia” she says as she holds her hands. “Tell me if there is anything I can do for you.”

 

It’s not the first time that someone addresses her as if she was a substitute of Will’s widow, the less caffeinated low fat version, but somehow coming from Kalinda has a different effect. A more real, transcendental one.

 

“Thank you,” she says, and “He really cared for you.”

 

Kalinda smiles a little broken smile, like she wishes to believe it more than she believes it’s true. God, can she relate to that.

 

There is a lump at her throat that she can’t manage to swallow and if she were to be able to produce more tears she would be crying again. She hugs her, looking for giving and taking some comfort from this person she used to be so close to and  whom she drove away.

 

“I’m sorry” Alicia’s whispers at Kalinda’s ear.

 

People begin to arrive and take their seats. It is a big church but there are a lot of people and the place is pretty crowded by the time the service is about to start. The first two rows of banks are reserved though, for family. There they sit his sister and their respective husbands, Kalinda and Cary, Diane and her husband… and there is also a sit at the far left end for herself and beside her, for Peter.

 

“He was a good man” the pastor says, “he wasn’t flawless but he was compassionate, caring, and honest.”

 

Alicia looks at her right and see the pieces of the life she has now; she has a good job she loves and enables her to provide for her children and herself, which she wouldn’t have today if Will hadn’t give her a chance, Diane, Cary, Kalinda… she has friends she wouldn’t have met if Will hadn’t introduced them to her, she has the memories of some of the happiest moments of her life along Will, and she has managed to ungratefully and selfishly mess with all that and now it is too late, too fucking late for amends.

 

She doesn’t realize she is crying until Peter offers her his handkerchief. She is not as good a person as people like to think she is because in that very moment, God, she resents him so much for being at his side when Will is in a casket that she has to grit her teeth and take a deep breath so to not to scream her lungs out.

 

\----------------------

 

**YELOW. TWELVE DAYS AFTER.**

 

She comes back from work, she takes a quick shower and change into comfortable clothes and heads for the hospital. That has become her yellow day’s routine.

 

“I’m sorry Grace, I won't be at home in time for dinner today” she says to her daughter as she looks for the keys of her car.

 

“It’s okay Mom, you are prone to forget that I’m almost a legal grown up now. I don’t need you to constantly look after me now.” Grace smiles at her and insists “Go!” and when she comes close to kiss her on the cheek and hug her goodbye she says “I’m proud of you Mom” and Alicia has to just hug her a little tighter.

 

When she arrives to the hospital Will is watching some sport show at the TV. He still looks pale and thin but the amount of tubes and machines that used to keep him alive have happily decreased.

 

“You look good.”

 

“Well, is certainly not tanks to the Chicago Bulls.” his words are a little slurred and his look is a little unfocused due to the pain medication.

 

“Not surprisingly, I don’t remember Mike Dunleavi having a medical degree.”

 

Alicia smiles and takes one of the chairs next to his bed. He keeps watching the TV and she uses her smartphone to answer some e-mails from work; it should be boring but instead she finds the experience comforting, to just be there for a while, to keep each other’s quiet company.

 

“You don’t have to keep coming back every day.”

 

Her heart skips a beat and she looks up when she hears him but he is not looking back at her and instead keeps his eyes fixed on the stupid TV.

 

“The doctors say I’m not going to die and I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

 

How it has come to this. They used to be able to communicate with little more than a look or a touch of their fingers not so long ago.

 

The crushing soul breaking weight of the words unsaid.

 

She takes his hand in hers and forces him to look at her. “I want to keep coming back.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

 

He doesn’t say anything back at her but he sighs and squeezes her hands and she can’t help but caress the back of his hand with her fingers.

 

It doesn’t magically repair _them_ , but it certainly is a good start.

 

\------------------------

 

**BLUE. FOURTEEN DAYS AFTER.**

 

“I need you to accompany me to a charity event in Rockford.”

 

“No.”

 

They are at her kitchen. Outside her windows the night has fallen over the city and Alicia doesn’t want to keep having this conversation with Peter, she doesn’t want to talk at all, she just want to get into her bed and be over with this day in which the calendar on her nightstand is blue.

 

“Alicia.” He has a glass of wine in one hand and a condescending expression that she would like to smack out of his face. ”You can’t keep grieving like this.”

 

It’s such a patronizing thing to say the she just snorts and downs the rest of her wine “I am going to bed.”

 

“No you are not.”

 

“Excuse me?!”

 

He takes two steps and holds her by the shoulders, imposing, like he keeps having the right to dictate her life like this. She hates him so much at that moment that she can’t remember what made her fall in love with him in the first place.

 

“It’s been two weeks and you are still acting like the grieving widow. You are not, you are my wife and I need you to come to Rockford with me.”

 

“I. Don’t. Care.” she spits the words and rolls her shoulders to free herself from his touch.

 

“What is wrong with you?” he shouts but Alicia doesn’t even flinch she is not that easily intimidated anymore.

 

“What is wrong with me? no, what is wrong with you? I’m fed up of everything revolving around you and your political career.” Her cheeks burn with rage. She is out for blood. “Tell me one thing, Peter, did you know about the ballots?”

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“I’m just trying to measure how relieve you are that Will is dead.” they look at each other in the eyes, second after second of silence till its meaning downs on Alicia and her hands are suddenly fists banging against his chest. “You bastard!”

 

He grabs her wrists and he shakes her a little before holding her near, his every word hitting on her face. “Don’t act like the offended part, now! You are glamorizing the memory of Will just to get back at me, well you didn’t love him when he was alive and I don’t think he really loved you either.”

 

“You don’t know that!”

 

“Well, if he was such a great guy, why weren’t you with him?”

 

His words hurt her like little, sharp knives that sink into her chest. “I wish I was.” She says with determination.

 

“But you weren’t, right? you want to know why, dear? because you craved power just as much as I did! Maybe I’m a bastard, but you are a bitch.”

 

“Maybe you are right, but I am no longer your bitch” she pushes him with all the strength she has and frees herself from him knocking off the counter half bottle of wine in the process. She couldn’t care less. She just wants to get out of this kitchen and most of all she wants to fall asleep.

 

\------------------------------

 

**YELLOW. A MONTH AFTER.**

 

A month after the shooting Will is out of the hospital and in recovery at home with a part time personal nurse that takes care of his wounds and medical needs and a cane to help him move around the apartment.

 

Alicia still visits him almost every day, even if it’s only for a few minutes in between trials. Even if it’s only to see him safe and alive.

 

“I think we should talk,” Will says as soon as he opens the door and invites her in.

 

She would like to kiss him right then and there, in sweatpants and unshaven; the memory of his lips on hers is almost painful but not as painful as the presence of his absence in the other life she lives. She wants to touch him, to breathe him in, make immediate amends and celebrate second chances, instead she nods and follow him to the sitting room and waits for him to start.

 

“It’s been a month and you’ve been stopping by almost every day. I was wondering when it is going to stop.”

 

They have been at this very same spot several times. Bad timing and not enough explanations; that could be the chronicle of them.

 

“Do you want me to stop coming by?” her voice sounds sweet and little and afraid, it sounds like the voice of the person she was five years ago but she is not, she is stronger now and if he wants nothing to do with her she could take it. He owes him that much.

 

“I want to understand.” He holds her gaze but he is trying not to give anything away. “Because you already left me, in more than one way. I’d like to be prepared this time.”

 

Not so long ago his words would have been aggressive instead of matter of fact-ly but not so long ago she wouldn’t have answered with all the truth either.

 

She tells him about the day she couldn’t reach Grace, and about the primary, instinctive fear of not being a good enough mother because she was focusing her attention on somebody else. She tells him about choosing to leave because she wouldn’t have been able to stay away from him. She tells him about good intentions and regrets and he listens to her, follows her every word as if they were sacred.

 

"You could have told me." Will says. He passes a hand over his face in a gesture he only makes when he is very bored or really tired. "I wouldn't have tried to change your mind."

 

"I know that now. I wasn't sure back then." It's one of the many downsides of a professional politician for a husband; you start to forget there are people out there who don’t always act upon the ulterior motive.

 

"What do you want to do?" Will asks her.

 

"I want to come tomorrow." She says smiling, "and the day after."

 

He starts to laugh but the muscles of his stomach are not up to it yet and he winces as he braces himself around the abdomen. Alicia is up and next to him in less than a second.

 

"Do you need anything? A glass of water?" she asks a little worried.

 

"No, I'm okay." He takes her hands in his and hints for her to sit beside him. "What do you want to do after tomorrow and the day after?"

 

She has heard the words in her mind so many times that they almost speak themselves, "I want what we had. I want to be with you. Only you. Forever.”

 

She touches his hair and then run her fingers through it until her hand settles over his jaw and leans in to kiss him. Soft, warm lips. It’s a lingering, slow kiss. Like the first one, better than the first one, exploring and long and soft, like they would have all the time in the world. It’s familiar and new and solid, and as Will hand caresses her nape and his lips cherish her mouth, Alicia thinks “ _Yes. This is it._ ”

 

\-------------------------------

 

**BLUE. TWO MONTHS AFTER.**

 

Jeffery Grant’s murder trial becomes a media circus that is hard to escape. Cable news send reporters to cover the process and every local newspaper has something to say or discuss about the litigation. Will’s picture is everywhere she looks at and Alicia feels a sadness pressing on her throat that barely lets her breath all along these blue calendar days.

 

Alicia is neither a witness nor a lawyer in this case but she goes to the courtroom nevertheless. By now she has undertaken all possible medical and psychiatrist test that there was to be taken, all with the same result; she is absolutely one hundred percent healthy, and therapy didn’t prove to me much of a help either. There is just no explanation about why she lives her days twice, once with Will, once without him but she doesn’t care anymore, she has resolved to live the first to the fullest and the latest as fast and unbothered as it can be done. Coming to the trial is far from fast or unbothering but she feels like she owes it to him, to his memory. Whatever.

 

She knows Diane is leading the private prosecution but still is a surprise to find her in the hallway. He hair is longer now, arranged in a straight ponytail at the base of her nape that make her look more businesslike and severe, her features more sullen and less gentle. So, so different from the Diane she was having a drink just the day before.

 

Alicia approaches her and has barely finished greeting her when Kalinda joins them. She looks different too; more determined, if that is even possible, more closed up, for sure.

 

“The defense is going to go try the insanity approach to commute jail time for therapy so there is a small chance that Jeffery won’t even set foot in a cell again.”

 

She knew the kid, before it all happened, she knew the kid and she felt sorry for his bad luck. Alicia can’t believe how raging hate has replaced the totality of those warm feelings.

 

“I would take care of it” Kalinda says. “if it comes to it I would take care that he gets what he deserves.”

 

Neither Diane nor she asks Kalinda about specifics. They don’t care. The three of them were close enough to Will to qualify as family, more even. The blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb.

 

Kalinda and Diane’s eyes are bright and deep with anger, they exude a calm violence that Alicia can recognize, she could almost let herself feel it if she weren’t too focused in no wasting her energies in this unwanted reality.

 

“I am sure you both will take appropriate care of this,” she says to the other women before entering the courtroom.

 

It’s almost a shame, she thinks. Alicia is almost sure that the three of them could bend the world and make it burn just using this anger as gasoline.

 

\-----------------------------

 

**YELLOW. THREE MONTHS.**

 

The Philip’s trial goes better than expected, so much that at four p.m she is out of the courtroom and done for the day. Half an hour later she is at the door of Will’s apartment.

 

“Hi,” he says letting her in. He is smiling, bright and fully in a way that almost disguises the lost weight from surgery. A blue cotton t-shirt, jeans and barefooted, she leads her to the kitchen aisle easing her out of her coat. “How was your day?”

 

“Pretty good, actually.” He lets her coat rest over one of the tall chairs of the kitchen. “We closed with an agreement.”

 

“Good. That’s great.” Will puts his hands on her jaw and kisses her softly and sweet, as he always does when he greets her. It’s a little sap but it feels like he always has all the time in the world for her, which does crazy things at her hormone levels. “Ask me how my day was,” he whispers against her mouth.

 

“How was your day?”

 

“It was fantastic.”

 

He kisses her again, a little more urgent this time, and he uses his body to push her backwards until her back reaches the counter. “I went to the doctor,” he says helping her to sip up on the horizontal surface, “ and she has cleared me, so as it happens-” her skirt lifts a little as she opens her legs and he positions himself in between, his hands on her tights and his lips on her throat, “-I can start... exercising again.”

 

Alicia’s legs clasps automatically behind his backside as her pulse races up.

 

“Really? And did you go for a run?”

 

“I’ve chosen to save my limited strength for other strenuous activities.”

 

She laughs out loud, carefree and liberated. Her shoes fall from her feet with a flat noise and the sunlight that goes through the large windows of the apartment shines on the creamy skin of her arms and legs.

 

He has always been able to make her feel like this; special and true to herself, excited, courageous and unadulterated happy. It is what makes it so easy for her to love him, it’s also why she was scared to death; it could be so easy to let herself get lost in this feeling and forget that she has responsibilities.

 

Will’s long and slightly callouses fingers run over her exposed skin, grabbing, caressing, undressing her with dexterous movements.

 

“Be gentle with me” he pouts, “I’m not as fit as I used to be.”

 

He has the insolence of saying it against her right earlobe while his hand works between her legs.

 

She bites her lower lip hard enough to almost draw blood because she doesn't want to start ranting about how good he is at this.

 

"Were you fit before?" She says, her voice trembling as her toes start to curl by their own resolve, "I didn't notice."

 

He laughs and the vibration runs from his body through hers taking her a step closer to the edge.

 

"I guess I'll have to compensate my lack of physical allure with eagerness to please and enthusiasm."

 

She moans, her breath uneven and elaborated, and as her orgasm start to hit, her only thoughts are " _closer, closer"_ , and embraces Will so hard that no molecule of air could be found between their skins.

 

\----------------------

 

**BLUE. FIVE MONTHS AFTER.**

 

After long, tedious and complicated paperwork, and a formal complaint to the insurance company, Will's last will is executed; Diane gets his share of the former Lockhart & Garner, his sisters the life insurance money and she receives a cardboard box full of Georgetown tokens.

 

There are law textbooks, a couple of sweaters and there is also a photo album. She goes through it and finds a photo of Will and herself she doesn’t remember having seen before; it’s a close shot in which you can only see their faces and they look terribly young and terribly drunk. They heads are together, she has curls going around everywhere and her eyes closed as she laughs; he is pucking his lips and looking directly at the camera.

 

They look truly, deeply, blissfully unaware of the workings of the world.

 

That night she drinks a whole bottle of wine by herself and goes to sleep hoping to wake up soon to another life.

 

\---------------------------------

 

**YELLOW. SIX MONTHS AFTER**

 

Grace starts to prepare for going to college and Owen comes to visit. It’s nice and a little stressful which is a long synonym for “family”.

 

“So you and Will, uh?” he even finishes the sentence with a quick up and down movement of his eyebrows that some unscrupulous ex-boyfriend once told him was sexy.

 

She wonders for a moment if she should open the bottle of wine or just use it as a blunt object to leave him unconscious.

 

“What about Will and I.”

 

Owen opens his mouth unduly and plays for the aggravated part of the conversation as Alicia finishes unscrewing the bottle and starts pouring the wine.

 

“Are you seriously going to try to play coy with me?” he says as he takes his glass and toast it with hers, mainly because Owen is about as superstitious as it gets with the stupidest kind of things and he has the firm conviction that drinking wine without toasting first grants you disastrous consequences for one’s sex live. “Grace has told me everything.”

 

Which could be an outrageous lie from her brother in order to make her talk or could it be just that Grace has figured something out, after all she is not a little girl anymore and she is not trying to be as secretive as much as cautious with her private life.

 

“Grace knows nothing,” she says, because she is a lawyer after all, and a good one. Giving up information without having the upper hand is no longer in her nature.

 

Owen smiles and uses his glass to point at her. “As her mom I’m sure you’d like to believe that.”

 

The conversation evolves and glasses empty. She is ready to clear up when Owen speaks again, this time his voice is serious and his expression a little concerned. “Does he make you happy?”

 

Alicia doesn’t feel like she has to dodge this one, “yes.”

 

“Good, because you deserve to be happy, Sis.” Owen hugs her and kisses her lightly on her temple. “Besides, he is the hottest guy either of us has ever made out with.”

 

\--------------------------------

 

 **BLUE. SEVEN MONTHS AFTER**.

 

Is barely six p.m. but she is already in bed waiting for that glass of wine and couple of sleeping pills to kick in when she hears Grace enter in her bedroom and take a sit by her side.

 

“Mom, Mom” Grace calls her playing with her hair, “why don’t you come with me to the cinema?” her voice is low and sweet but Alicia couldn’t bother to open her eyes. Not even for this Gracie, “or maybe we could go out to dinner to that restaurant around the corner you used to love, would you like that?”

 

She sighs deeply and begs for everything to go away. “No.”

 

She can feel it, the moment her daughter sees the open bottle of sleeping pill on her nightstand by the blue calendar. Her body stiffens and she feels sad that she has become this terrible mother for her, but still Alicia doesn’t open her eyes.

 

“Mom” Grace’s voice tremble in that single monosyllable, “are you going to kill yourself?”

 

“No.” she answers truthfully, what she doesn’t say is that she won't do it not because she isn’t miserable in this life but because she doesn’t know if it could jeopardize her other reality. There is no need to be meaner.

 

“Grace,” she says, “I just want to fall asleep.”

 

More accurate words were never spoken.

 

\----------------------------------

 

**YELLOW. NINE MONTHS AFTER.**

 

It’s a lazy, rainy morning and they have just had breakfast and have gone back to bed. They are buried under the covers, talking in whispers and playing like teenagers with their hands as the pouring rain hits the windows.

 

“Do you have a picture of us of that night at that frat boy party where Janine got so drunk she puked all over Charles's car?”

 

He looks kind of confused for a moment and she keeps playing with his long fingers. “You are posing with a kissy face and I have my eyes closed,“ she insists, and then Will is half closing his eyes in concentration and smiling goofily at the memory.

 

“Actually, I think I do.”

 

She uses the tip of her fingers to caress his face and looks at the path of her hands instead of looking at him in the eyes because she is too terrified of what she is about to say.

 

“Some days I wake up and you died in that courtroom.” She doesn’t clarify furthermore but she knows is enough to make her sound crazy. Full Disclosure; she isn’t even sure she isn’t.

 

There’s a pause, a silence a little heavier than before but his finger never leave her skin. “Really?”

 

“David Lee cried like a baby at your funeral,” she says because it’s the truth but also because she looks for an excuse to lighten the mood.

 

He sifts and moves closer to her until he can embrace her and hold her in his arms and Alicia can feel his strong heartbeat against her cheek.

 

He smiles and pecks her sweetly on the tip of her nose. “I would have liked to see that.”

 

“I didn’t.” Alicia whispers against his chest.

 

Outside, it has stopped raining for the time being.

 

\----------------------------------

 

**BLUE. TEN MONTHS AFTER.**

 

“Alicia” Kalinda says as the bartender brings them their drinks, “everybody is worried for you.”

 

“ _I don’t care._ ” she is about to say, instead she downs the scotch in one single gulp and looks in her purse to throw a twenty dollar bill to the table.

 

“I have to go.”

  
That’s the last time she will see this particular brand of Kalinda.

 

\---------------------------------

 

**YELLOW. A YEAR AFTER.**

 

They have a quite dinner and a fun night of drinks. There is Diane and Kurt, Kalinda, Cary who leaded his litigation against Jeffery because he was invested but he wasn’t too invested and then there is Will and Alicia herself.

 

They talk, they laugh, they banter and they all passionately discuss their disagreements.

 

It is late when they get into a cab and the driver asks for directions.

 

“Do you want to go to your apartment or-”

 

“No.” she interrupts noticing not for the first time how unimposing he has always been where Peter was commanding, adaptable and understanding where her husband was all hard edges.

 

“I am going to fill for divorce.” It is not a sudden decision but it sounds like a sudden declaration.

 

Will takes her hand in his and looks at her, soft eyes and warm fingers. “Are you sure? It could make you lose some clients.”

 

Some time ago that would have been a major issue, now it seemed somehow inconsequential.

 

“I love you. It’s time. I’m sure.”

 

When he kisses her in the darkness of the backseat of a Chicago cab, he tastes like expensive scotch and still smells like second chances.

 

Neither of them can stop smiling.

 

\--------------------------------

 

**BLUE. A YEAR AFTER.**

 

It is a car at Jason Boulevard and it hits her before she has time to know what is going to happen.

 

It’s a sunny afternoon and she lies bleeding on the road for fifteen minutes before the ambulance arrives. Alicia can hear the paramedics freaking out all the way to the hospital but she can't feel the damage caused by her injuries which she guesses is not precisely a good symptom.

 

She remembers how devastating the absence of last words can be and employs all the strength she can muster to creakingly say "tell my children that I'm sorry." to whomever might be listening.

 

She is unconscious before she enters the operation room.

 

Word spreads at Lockhart & Agos; some people say that she was gone before being dead. Some people think that the date is fitting, but they would never dare to give voice to such a cruel idea.

 

\-----------------------

 

 **YELLOW. ONE YEAR AND TWO DAYS AFTER**.

 

The alarm goes off.

 

The annoying beeping sound gets into her head and shatters the dream she was probably having and Alicia stretches all the muscles she can before sighting and opening her eyes. And then… and then she freezes.

 

There it is; the old yellow calendar on her nightstand for the second day on a row. Her eyes immediately fill with tears that for once in such a long time has no trace of sadness in them. She puts her right hand over her heart and it’s racing like a horse.

 

The alarm goes off for a second time. It’s Monday and she has an important work meeting first thing in the morning. Life doesn’t wait for her.

 

She smiles while she is at the shower and while she dresses and puts her shoes on. She hums tones she thought she has forgotten before having her first intake of caffeine of the day.

 

She is just heading out of her apartment when she decides to text Will.

 

“ _I have an opening in my schedule. Lunch date?_ ”

 

His response is almost immediate, as it usually is. “ _Sure, but weren’t we going out for dinner?_ ”

 

She takes a content deep breath that almost sounds like a sigh and catches a glimpse of her reflection on the elevator’s mirror. She looks relaxed and at peace. She looks even a little younger maybe. She looks happy.

 

Her fingers move lightly over the phone as she texts him back. “ _I figured I don’t want to wait._ ”

 

**Author's Note:**

> First things first; my most sincere apologies because this is unbetaed and barely re-read before posting. I will edit to make it better. I promise.
> 
> I also wanted to explain that although Alicia is a strong character and the kind of depressive behavior she displays in some of the scenes might be seen as out of character, she is supposedly living, a happier one, and because of that she doesn't fight to get her life back on tracks. She doesn't want that gloomy reality be her reality.


End file.
